


The Cold of the Dark

by Moonrose91



Series: Three Hundred Years of Being Forgotten (Mostly) [15]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First meetings are very precious.</p><p>And sometimes, very enlightening.</p><p>This is one but not the other.</p><p>And neither party is sure of which it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cold of the Dark

Jack is a little over ten years old.

He still feels like he is missing something, something vitally important, when he meets him.

‘Him’ is the man, tall and dark, skin grey, hair black, but streaked with grey, and he is wearing a black robe that is of the shadows itself who scares Jack, but at the same time seems to offer a comfort, for Jack has always enjoyed relaxing in the shadows when the sun begins to get too much and a headache begins to build.

Jack watches him, blue eyes watchful, wary of this stranger who is one with the shadows, mostly because he is tired.

He is just one person and directing an entire season, keeping that the balance of the world, is hard and tiring, but fun (so much fun, actually; because there is no set dates, no deadlines he must meet; he just follows his instinct and where it leads him and pulls a few pranks along the way).

But it is still just him and no one to talk to and no one to just flop next to and trust that they will watch over him without attempting to rip whoever it is they perceive as a threat apart.

The deer that live through the cold greet him, now, as an old friend. The wolves welcome him into their packs, and the penguins are always too focused on their eggs for him to talk to. The polar bears are asleep, and the whales on the other end of the globe.

But this man of shadows interests Jack, because he’s never seen him before. He is glaring down at the village that Jack had landed in.

The village that is dying, slowly but surely, and soon there will be nothing left.

“Are you going to come out or am I going to have to drag you out?” the man asks and Jack twitches his head to the side.

And then he’s being yanked forward by shadows and he stumbles with a yelp and a shouted, “Hey!” before he zips up, the Wind easily carrying him out of the grasp and having him land near the shadowy man, despite wanting to race away.

Rush and flit and fly, and leave this man to glare at the village.

“Who are you?” the man asked, staring down at Jack like he is something that is beyond the man’s notice and it should be the biggest honor of Jack’s life that he is even deciding to speak with him.

It would work, if Jack didn’t know loneliness when he heard it. “Jack Frost,” Jack answered with a shrug and the man stared at him.

“Spirit of Winter? Bringer of Winter? Winter Shepherd?” Jack offered, the last one tripping off his tongue without ever hearing it before.

“Oh. I’ve heard whisperings about you. I didn’t know you actually existed, considering we had just gotten a new one half a century ago,” the man answered and went back to glaring at the village.

“New one what?” Jack demanded.

This was the fourth time someone had brought that up.

The man looked over at him, golden eyes glittering. “What makes you think I’ll tell _you_?” the man questioned.

Jack considered and then shrugged. “Nothing. Why are you glaring at the village like it ripped out your heart?” he responded, letting it go.

Maybe Chyou would tell him what it meant.

The man, however, bared his teeth at Jack. “That is entirely impossible,” the man stated.

“Why? Because you don’t have one?” Jack taunted and the man gave him a look, surprise on his face before it was hidden away.

“Do you know who I am?”

“I have ten years of memories. What do you think?” Jack responded, not answering and the man sighed.

“Wonderful. I’ve even fallen out of fellow spirits memories. I’m Pitch Black, the Boogeyman,” the man introduced, though he sounded like he would rather rip out all his own teeth then have to actually introduce himself.

Jack wasn’t sure how to feel about him, but so far he liked the guy (not that he would tell the man of shadows that).

He leaned on his staff and watched the village. “So…that was the first village to walk through you?” Jack asked and the man reels back as if he was struck, but Jack doesn’t look away from the village.

The silence stretches between them, Pitch Black never answering, and Jack resists the urge to growl.

He only likes the silence when he is with Sandman.

“Oh, joy, someone else to rub that fact into my face,” Pitch drawled and Jack laughed.

He was sure that the Boogeyman was not expecting that and he’s surprised that Pitch doesn’t try to rip out his organs.

“No, not at all. Just saying that glaring at the village won’t change anything. And neither will shouting at it, or haunting it or throwing snowballs into people’s faces, though that last one is rather fun,” Jack responded and glanced over at Pitch then, grinning at the scowl that decorated the _much_ older spirit’s face.

“I know that. I have had far more experience with it then _you_ ,” Pitch growls.

Jack does not correct him.

He does not remind Pitch Black, the Boogeyman, that once upon a time, he had believers, and he probably will again, given time. Take another name, another form, and he would be seen again.

Jack Frost has never had any and he’s starting to think he never will.

He will remain a ghost in this world, for even the other Seasons, even Mother Nature, are seen, when they want to be (they can be selective, but Jack just isn’t seen, period).

However, the man is rather intimidating and Jack looks up at him, at ease.

He isn’t being attacked, but he’s leaning a little away from Pitch.

He doesn’t want to be caught unaware.

“Just saying, Boogeyman, you need to have a little fun, or you’ll fester and rot,” Jack stated and jumped, easily catching the wind that pulled him up into the starlight, while Pitch glared up at him, one shadow stopping short from stretching into the Moon’s sight.

It just barely missed Jack’s foot.

Behind his back, Jack was making a snowball. “And the best way to cheer someone up,” Jack began and Pitch glared.

“Don’t you dare Frost,” he warned.

“Is to have a snowball fight,” Jack finished and immediately lobbed the ball of white at the Boogeyman.

The man easily dodged with a glare, but as he turned, he got a face full of the glittering snow Jack sometimes called up, to encourage playfulness.

Sometimes children, like that sad brown haired girl (she wasn’t so sad anymore, now that they had left the village, but there was still that shade to her entire demeanor) needed a slight pick me up.

He wasn’t sure if it would work on Pitch, who seemed to be blinking a bit in surprise.

The smile wasn’t pretty, but it was worth the snowball to the face that one of the shadows lobbed at him.

**Author's Note:**

> The village we see with Pitch getting walked through is the same village as the one Jack was walked through in.
> 
> It also has the same people.
> 
> (I think; they look the same both times anyway)
> 
> Meaning that Pitch has been doing his planning for 300 years.
> 
> And even if it is not true, that is my headcanon and I am sticking to it.
> 
> (Also, I apologize if Pitch is out of character. He's not super bitter yet, and Jack is just so playful and used his magic, so I figured most could be forgiven.)


End file.
